Answer
by Unoriginality
Summary: <html><head></head>Late at night, while his brother sleeps, Alphonse finds the word to describe his brother.</html>


_Cast me gently_

_Into morning_

_For the night has been unkind_

_Take me to a_

_Place so holy_

_That I can wash this from my mind_

_-"Answer" Sarah McLachlan_

Night was unkind to the Elric brothers.

It always came, like an unwelcome visitor, and settled over the land and whatever town they were staying in, chasing people indoors and leaving them little to do but retire to their rented inn room and wait for morning. Eventually, the need for sleep would come like the night's hateful little accomplice and the elder brother would reluctantly retire to the bed for a few hours of fitful sleep, and the younger would be left to his own devices, watching his brother sleep and debating over and over again if he should open the window or close it, never certain if it was too warm or too cold in the room for Edward.

The night was indeed unkind to the Elric brothers.

While the elder slept, plagued by nightmares that had haunted his once-pleasant rest ever since the ill-fated night they'd tried to resurrect their mother- _does he think I don't know, don't see them? Just because I can't see what he sees doesn't mean I can't see _him_, can't see his heart and the way it's held down by them-_ the younger sat up, left with just his own thoughts, trapped in a body that couldn't sleep though he sorely wished it could.

The night was where the boys were truly alone; Edward left to his personal hell of nightmares and Alphonse to the thoughts that would, entirely against his will and in spite of all of his best efforts, eventually find their way down a dark and unwanted path that would leave him wishing, hardly for the first time, that he had tears to cry. In those moments, he wished he had the heart to wake his brother and rob him of what precious little sleep he managed to get to ask him to smile for him. That warm and reassuring smile that promised he'd make everything all right again someday, that reminded Alphonse why his faith in his brother never wavered, never faltered was something he craved whenever the night grew too dark to weather alone.

So Alphonse sat quietly, alone with the thoughts that echoed dimly through the hollow armor, watching his brother sleep until he was sure the nightmares would not wake him that night. Sometimes it was so bad that Edward would simply give up and crawl sleepily over to his brother and curl up in his cold metal lap, in those moments still just a lost and scared child clinging to the precious family he had left Once he was sure Edward would sleep through the night, he would walk over to the window and stare out at the street below. Each town was comparable, but the differences were enough that he could occupy himself for most of the night, memorizing details about the setting below.

In this particular town, the building across the street was a diner, so there was a large dumpster in the alley beside it, and a cat was half-submerged into the pile of trash within, scrounging up its dinner. There was a pile of boxes next to the dumpster; the wood looked rotted in some places, and he wondered exactly how long they'd sat there. The streets were dirt, loosely packed in places, and with no few potholes- _that one looks like a star, I wonder if a child made it trying to mimic an array_-

Alphonse's attention was drawn from the town below to the bed by a strained whimper, jarringly loud in the silence that had settled over the room. He whirled, barely noting the grind of metal on metal as plates in his body scraped against each other at the movement, looking at his brother in concern.

Edward almost couldn't be seen, the sheets tangled up around him so much that only his hair and part of his face were visible, but his entire form trembled violently, and mewling whimpers and incoherent words fell from his lips like a eulogy of whispered confessions, frantic and desperate; a few thin rivlets of sweat fell across his forehead.

Silently, Alphonse sat down in the chair beside the bed and placed a large, leather-palmed glove on Edward's forehead, brushing back some hair gently, mimicking the actions of their mother whenever either boy was sick or woken by nightmares. He quietly whispered wordless soothing noises, continuing to pet his brother's hair softly, wishing he could do more to fight back the images that haunted his brother.

Alphonse watched his brother start to quiet down under his comforting touch- _he's so strong it's easy to forget that under it all, this is what he is, he's just a child, a scared child that's lost too much, seen too much, he's seen and lost even more than I have, somehow, but it's where I can't see what it is-_ and it occurred to him that no one else ever saw this, no one else ever saw this face of Edward Elric, the hero of the people, the David, young and bright-eyed and unbeatable and beloved of the people... no one was ever reminded that he was a child.

He marveled, watching his brother's breathing slow to a calmer rate, that this boy he'd known ever since he was born, that he'd watched grow up, watched fight back tears bravely as their mother cleaned scrapes on his knees, that simultaneously teased and cared for their surrogate sister, Winry, that played such childish games as 'pirate's cave' and 'keep away', was such a hero in this country. Beneath the gauntlet hand that was built for war, was the most brilliant mind in all of Amestris, a god in his own right, who could command the hearts of anyone that knew him, could inspire a fire and passion that too many forgot in their daily lives as he passed through, catching everyone up in the whirlwind around him.

Beneath that leather and armored hand was a boy who wielded more power than anyone ever had before.

After a few minutes, the god-boy calmed and stilled, slipping into a far more peaceful slumber, and Alphonse started to rise from his seat to return to his station at the window. Something brushed against the hand leaving his brother's brow just enough to make him notice it and he paused, halfway up from his seat, and looked back to the bed. His brother looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, his automail fingers lethargically tapping against the gauntlets of Al's hand.

"Brother? Is something wrong?"

The elder boy didn't say anything in response, just shook his head and curled his fingers around his brother's slightly, giving his arm a gentle tug. _Stay_.

Without questioning the silent voice that he heard, even though his brother's lips didn't move at all, Alphonse obliged, settling back in the chair and turning to face his brother. Edward sat up, lightly placing his hands on the chest plate of the armor that housed the younger Elric's soul, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cool metal between his hands.

"You should lay down and rest, Brother," he insisted, watching the strong, if a little small- and oh dear heavens he'd _never_ say that where his brother could hear that, he valued his body parts- form of his brother curl up against him tiredly.

"'m restin'," was the mumbled response, Edward already having to fight a yawn, falling asleep right there, sitting up and leaning against his brother. "Jus' listenin' first 's all."

"Listening?"

"To m' heartbeat. 's right... under my... ha-" his words got cut off by a yawn, and then silence as he drifted off again, expression something that bordered on peaceful, a look he'd not seen on that face for a good many years now.

People cried two different sorts of tears. Tears of pain, and tears of joy, when the soul was so full of emotion that it had to push out the extra tears to make room. If his body had been capable of crying, Alphonse would've sworn he could feel the sting of tears just then.

Wordlessly, Alphonse slipped his other arm under Edward's legs, picking him up and holding him close as he settled himself on the bed. Carefully, he pulled the covers up over his lap, then laid his brother back down. Edward curled up tightly in response, tucking his fists up under his chin and pressing his cheek tightly against the cloth over Alphonse's thigh. A second later the rest of the blanket had been tucked around him, wrapping him up tightly in its warmth, and Alphonse returned his hand to his brother's forehead, petting back his hair softly.

He was trying to put the gates of Heaven back together. Anointed, sanctified and consecrated, burning both ends of the candle as he went from town to town, carrying a message of devotion, trials and tribulations that stirred the hearts of the people and won them over with just a look from those molten gold eyes. They marveled at the strength of the heart of such a young boy, but...

It was then, sitting quietly while his brother slept, petting his hair gently and watching over him in his moment of vulnerability, that Alphonse found the words he'd been fumbling for when he wanted to describe his brother.

Beneath those war-built hands of his was his hero.


End file.
